


In The Woods Somewhere

by whorerormovie



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Harm to Animals, M/M, Mentions of Edelgard, Not Canon Compliant, Physical Harm, Psychological Harm, they hurt each other at first but it gets better, will update tags as needed, yes i got inspiration from this based on the hozier song so what!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whorerormovie/pseuds/whorerormovie
Summary: War changes people. Sometimes those changes make better people, sometimes it can make them madder. What will happen when a man meets a beast? Will the mad man kill the beast or will the madder beast kill the man? Or in the end will they too become part of the woods, as all things do?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dimitri, as he currently is, does not consider himself to be human so the pronoun i'll stick to is it. To avoid confusion, at times I will use Dimitri/Beast as nouns until further notice. If this bothers you this may not be the fic for you.
> 
> Claude's tattoos do play a part in the plot, but also that aesthetic. That being mentioned we stan pierced Claude in this household.
> 
> All this being said this is my first fanfiction, I would appreciate any constructive criticism.

_My head was warm  
My skin was soaked.  
I called your name 'til the fever broke.  
When I awoke  
The moon still hung.  
The night so black that the darkness hummed._

_______________________________________________

The stench of death grips it like a vise. 

Days of carnage stacked upon pelt and armor. The remainder of dried blood pooled upon the beast’s hands, reaching up to his biceps and face. There is no point in cleaning oneself, Dimitri thinks, even if the blood is washed away, the blood of another victim will soon replace it. No matter how clean it becomes on the outside, its insides will still be foul. Its soul is tainted and it can no longer be that boy whom it used to be, nor does it want to be. The beast has relinquished its humanity long ago and has accepted its fate as a tool for the dead to cast their revenge. When one forfeits their humanity, one forfeits the ethics that binds to principle, and so killing becomes easier for a beast like him. 

The beast hungers so it must feed, and so the beast kills indiscriminately. 

The prey is a doe whose antlers were painted in gold. With one good eye it can see the striations left behind by a set of palms. Dimitri distinguishes the markings as something done by a human. The smearing of paint halts where the antlers protrude from the cranium, the base still naturally white and unperturbed by paint. Nevertheless, the gold continued to trail over the vertebrae until it reached the tail, and even then the tail had been fully submerged in paint. As the animal turned its face, Dimitri could view yet another design drawn, a third eye just proximal to the glabella, etched in black ink. 

A number of deer in these woods bear similar markings, but just who does them is of no concern. In the end it changes nothing. Meat it meat and superficial beauty does nothing to alter its quality. The stomach growls, deep from within it rises as it claws up the esophagus. The very same growl leaves its throat in hollow feeling just as areadbhar is thrown towards the target. The target moves in time to be spared, its life extended by a few merciful seconds. 

Golden doe runs off on hind legs, spooked by the volatile sound of splintering bark. The tip of the lance ripped through the wood when it should have ripped through mounds of muscle and bone instead. A snarl leaves the beast’s mouth prior to chasing after the doe. The time of patience is over, now it feeds.

With the added weight of both armory and weaponry Dimitri’s speed is decreased, but even so, the muscles of its legs overcompensate for the chase. Adrenaline runs high. The arm that balances areadbhar reaches back, grip so tight it fears it might break the bones within its hand. Dimitri was about to perform the final throw, that is until sunlight hit. Pure, unadulterated sunlight, brimming when it hits skin. Within the woods, the branches spread so wide with leaves so thick that only slivers of light shine through. Oftentimes it is a diluted hellscape, with grayish bark and monotone roots stretching from the ground up. But this is different. There is color here, there is life, and upon this clearing Dimitri sees two examples of it. One is the doe and the other a man. 

It really is strange to see another person prowling about after so long in isolation. In these woods there is no end in sight. Dimitri has seen many suns rise and fall into the night, and yet, does not know how much time has passed since it last entered. Weeks? Maybe months? Nearly a year? No matter what, the beast cannot find its way out and finds itself forever trapped in this never changing hellscape. Nevertheless, it will not stop until it’s able to rid itself of this land, if it means cutting down every tree, killing every lifeform that exists.

There had been tales that this forest is cursed by the sorceress Edelgard, that this is a place where her enemies go to never be seen again -what hearsay. Dimitri had endured Edelgard's cruelty first hand, saw how her ideals led her to usurp and seize its homeland and nearly died because of it. Edelgard doesn’t vanish her foes, she kills them.

This man doesn’t look like a threat to Edelgard, or Dimitri for that matter. Doesn’t even carry a weapon, so, he had become complacent and to Dimitri that’s as good as being dead. Dimitri tried being complacent once, tried to compromise for the sake of peace and where that path led was to a forest that now it can’t get out of.  
As of now, This man’s identity is unknown to this hungry beast, but whoever he may be, he stilled the hunger. Green eyes stare softly at the doe as it eats from his palm. A wild tongue lapping at the berries on what Dimitri assumes to be the painter’s hand. There’s traces of gold scattered in between the digits, gold to match the cloth wrapped around his head. Wavy brown locks rebelliously loop around the headband’s thread, and as the hair strands become longer, the hair becomes straighter as it reaches past his neck. Something to note are the braids on either side of his face, extending well beyond his face and kept secured by the headscarf. It reminds Dimitri of a chain, something that can be pulled, something that can be wrapped around his neck ‘till his last breath draws out.

This beast does not belong here, this beast brings only death.

Blood gushes and the doe falls. Its death came instantaneously, calling it a mercy from its predator. The stranger merely watched wide eyed as blood continued to exit the wound of the fresh corpse. This stranger’s lips moved, just as his hands did. Fingers gentle as they were guided over the lids of the doe, in this action, providing eternal rest. 

Dimitri was not moved, but neither was this stranger it seemed. Having left behind the anonymity from the woods, Dimitri continued to close the distance between it and its meal. With each step taken, Dimitri met this stranger’s unbeknownst expression with a glare. Those eyes of his, murky, like the thick green film of water that clings to the surface. Never knowing how truly deep the water goes, and worse, what lives inside those depths. _Kill him if he gets in the way._

The stranger smiles then, likes it’s the most natural thing, smiles as if an animal had not been slaughtered right before his eyes. No teeth are shown, just an upward tug of the lips and Dimitri doesn’t know what to think of it. _A smile won’t spare your life._

Tanned hands came to grip the lance and its center and pulled, a line of blood stretching with the fast movement. Dimitri becomes agitated and rushes towards the man. This man is smaller in all terms physical, this beast will crush him until it bathes in his blood. 

“Here.” Dimitri stops mid-movement, hand merely inches away from this person’s neck. Whoever this man was didn’t even flinch, showed no particular emotion towards the threat before him. Though that smile still lingered, that empty smile that never quite reached his eyes. 

“Took her down with one hit, that’s quite impressive.” Areadbhar is held out horizontally, laying flat on the stranger’s palms. His fingers didn’t curve around the grip, meaning a lack of possessing intent. “I gotta admit, it would have taken me at least two arrows to bring down a creature this size.” This senseless talking, it just grates against the ears. Dimitri wants no more of this, so with the right hand, he grips areadbhar in vacant space between the stranger’s hands. Just as it was about to retrieve the weapon, the man closed his fingers around areadbhar, cancelling the action. “Shouldn’t expect any less from the man who goes around killing my deer.” Before given the chance to react, a snake coated in black scales came out of his sleeve. It traveled over areadbhar and up its arm with such speed that it managed to coil twice around the neck. The snake began to constrict with the lower half of the body. The upper half stretched up, creating some distance as it showed its fangs before plunging for the attack. Dimitri’s other arm crossed over the chest to reach the snake, and it did, but a few seconds past the opportune time. Teeth were inside evicting venom within the neck. A stinging sensation as the toxin spreads. Soon enough the pulse quickens, it’s felt so vividly as if the pulse joint is lodged between the mandibles of a snake -oh wait. The very hand pertaining to the beast falls lifeless back to its side. It is a battle to stand amidst the auditory and visual alterations. The voice Dimitri hears is distorted, more hellish than the voices normally heard. Vision fades in and out of consciousness. Exhaustion beneath the eyes more exaggerated by the shadow that looms there. 

A lion is no match for the venom of a snake it seems. 

Despite this, Dimitri continues to hold onto areadbhar as if it were a lifeline. And at the very least, attempts to use the hand that had fallen limp and placed it on the weapon. Now both hands are on the weapon, holding on to keep the body from collapsing. But when the stranger lets go the body does just that, it collapses under its own debilitated state.

“I wonder how many arrows it will take to bring you down?” A wicked grin, quite the image for a waning mind. Some would call it disturbing, but Dimitri has seen it many times before on its reflection. This stranger has met with the beast and delivered before it his own sneer. 

“A question for later, but for now…” The faintest trace of a touch. It feels dull, the only discerning quality is that the press is on the neck. There’s movement but no pattern can be followed due to a lack of sensory. “...goodnight.” Were the last spoken words, captured in fragments before lulling into the emptiness. 

_______________________________________________

When Dimitri awoke, it was to a cold touch. Liquid in its form, it clings to pallid flesh in droplets. There is a substance that drags across the face, it is moist as it scrubs away the sins of yesterdays. Blood can be wiped clean but death cannot. Once dead there is no way to clean, there is only rot, and that’s all that’s left of it.  
The beast’s tongue darts out. The tip outlines the upper lip weakly as it attempts to get any stray bits of water into the mouth. Cracked textures felt on the tongue, Dimitri’s lips were cracked raw and the moisture of water alleviated it. The beast is parched, its raspy groans chase after any water the falls from the rag. So focused on its need that it failed to notice the man sitting there, attending above with just a tilt of the upper body under a faint light. The brightness of the moon had crept through the windows joined with candlelight. He leans closer and as he does the black ink scribed to his chest peeks out from beneath the loose fitted blouse. Parts of a bigger sample, with one eye the beast can view the thick black rounded lines that reach above the collarbone and well into the shoulder. The dark lines contrasted by the glint of gold, a tiny jewel hangs from the left nipple. A match set for the one that dangles on the left lobe. This time he lacks a bandana, and this time just fashions his hair down. Bangs thick and unruly, the longer strands of hair frame the face and braids still kept tidy. What a soft face, a boyish face really, unmarred by scars unlike the face Dimitri bares to the world. 

These were all details that were missed in their earlier encounter. When one is in a frenzy there is no observation, there is just the attack. But now, when a beast is cornered it has no choice but to assess and bare its teeth, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. 

“You’re awake, _Goldilocks._ ” Barely. This body is worn and torn, also heavy and numb. Still Dimitri clings to consciousness, trying to rouse from a dazed state. If it were to fall asleep again, under the care of this stranger, it may not wake up again. There is no answer from the one below, why would there be? They both know it to be true. Besides, beasts don’t speak.

Water falls over the lips and as a response the mouth opens, welcoming the skant drops. With a singular eye it traces the source of the water. It comes from above, falling from the length of his fingers. Some drops managed to fall into the mouth, others fell off track and hit the sides instead. The stranger looks mesmerized by the animalistic habits. A gasp parts from his lips in mild curiosity. 

He withdraws his hand, only to submerge into the bucket on his side. Digits go knuckle deep, and once they are removed the thin layer of water clings to him. A trail of water falls on the floor until it reaches the beast’s lips once more, this time, closer. The beast still waits for its moment, playing docile and quite convincingly, because the stranger repeats the action and brings his fingers closer still.

“Ya’ got a name or will Goldilocks suffice?” A wink. “I guess I should lead by example. The name is Claude.”

**Claude.**

The pad of Claude’s index traces the upper lip in languid strokes, soon it moves to the lower lip. It’s too intimate, it has to end, now. Dimitri is no stranger to being captured, cages were made for creatures like it. And within those cages Dimitri had been tortured. Psychologically torn until it became unfit to recognize the man within.  
Despite the grueling conditions, it had managed to escape and will do so again. 

Claude pushes two fingers inside, still wet with the water Dimitri desperately needs. Its mouth adjusts, opening up to accommodate the fingers inside. Very mindful to keep the teeth away, it wanted to lure Claude deeper but the man is resolute in being unmoving. So Dimitri moves its tongue around the fingers, making them weter with saliva. Then its lips closed firmly around Claude and began suckling every trace of water that remained -sucking Claude deeper within its orifice. Dimitri’s warm mouth feels inviting as the tip of the tongue laps on the underside. its deep blue eye a lure, the gaze upon Claude is stagnant, challenging even as it looks for a tell. All dimitri gets is a smile, the same as in their earlier encounter.

No matter what Dimitri does, Claude's composure does not break so it’ll have to break something else. So it clenches its jaws, biting down on the two fingers. Skin cut by rows of teeth. Adamantly the beast clenches its jaw against Claude’s opposing force. He attempts to pull away but Dimitri won’t let up, and eventually, the cracking of bones ring against the ears. 

Claude finally manages to pry his fingers away with a pained groan much to Dimitri’s disappointment. The intent was to sever his fingers and spit them back at him. The beast’s way of antagonizing Claude over his earlier taunt. Arrows are useless with an archer that can’t shoot. But alas, Dimitri was unable to use its full strength due to the venom, at least, that’s the assumption. The might of a bloodline rendered useless by a pair of fangs. 

Claude stood then, with a smile no longer existent. The green of his eyes a dark transition into with the shadows that began covering his eyes. No screaming, no talking, just a frown that digs deep into his face. Dimitri didn’t notice at first but they were both breathing hard. Claude breathes hard and fast to try and dilute the pain, to conserve his anger. Dimitri breathes hard and fast because -just because.

Claude breaks eye contact by walking away, an incantation falling from his lips. Whichever dialect it is, it’s not something Dimitri comprehends. Just then, certain parts of his body began to illuminate in low golden light. Under the blurring of the fabric, Dimitri believes that it’s the markings painted on his skin which glowed. As the light paled, Claude’s hand came into the peripheral, and it moved without inflicting any sense of pain. The imprints of teeth upon the joint became nonexistent, his mauled flesh brought together by woven magic. As if it never transpired, but it did, Dimitri still has the thickness of his blood dormant on the tongue.

_**Could he be a mage?** _

“If you didn’t want to tell me your name all you had to do was say so.” Claude turns his head, his sharp profile menacing under the candlelights. Claude picks up the candle from the counter, those two fingers (those fingers that should be very broken) help carry the light with him as he drags his feet languidly over the wooden floorboards. There’s no sense of urgency and that’s what causes Dimitri’s stomach to tense. 

Abdominal muscles clench in prep, as well at the muscles of his legs and arms alike. Whatever beating, whatever punishment this Claude person dishes out he’ll be ready for it. 

On a better day Dimitri would have fought back. Would have used the sharpened ends of the gauntlet to lacerate skin, use feet to crush skulls, a lance to pierce through bodies, but in this predicament there is no use of such things. It took until now for Dimitri to recognize the severity of the situation. Early it had been stripped of armor, leaving behind the thin layers of darkened cloth beneath the suit. Dimitri still feels the makeshift bandages from earlier this week rubbing raw against tender skin. The tightness of the black undershirt overlapping the used bandage, reminding the beast of its prior vulnerability. Its wrists and ankles tied together, not with chains, something else entirely and it digs deep into pallid flesh that irritates the skin around it. A body inflicted with poison, a crest that won’t activate, and a weapon forlorn.  
It is as if one stripped a wolf out of its teeth, claws, and fur -defenseless- with nothing to protect itself. Leaves nothing but a shell. 

At least Dimitri’s body had not been dismissed to the floor, there was a conscience upon the other to at least provide a cot. The closer the walking subject got, the more erratic the other’s breathing became. Flaring of the nostrils and narrowing of the eye, even in weakness, Dimitri remains as resistant as the winters of Faerghus. In a sense Dimitri could have quite possibly met its match with Claude’s calculating allure, his distance, it is a weapon in and of itself.

An everglow of burning light, Claude’s skin a radiance of orange undertone whilst Dimitri a red stark. The red glow which comes from the flickering flame and envelops Dimitri’s frame slowly. Claude kneels at its side and the silence is staggering. Claude’s lips form a neutral line as he stares wantonly upon the other, the beast gazes at itself on the refraction of Claude's eyes. Cleaner, and linear blonde locks trimmed a few inches shorter. Prior to their meeting Dimitri’s hair had grown thick and long, reaching lengths of the thoracic spine, now it barely passes the clavicle. 

He then holds the candle closer, as a rebuttal the beast snarls. As if such a pitiful attempt would dispel the wickedness within. 

It was Claude's turn to speak again. Face stern, very well composed, and as his lips began to move his voice dipped lower signifying his gravitas. “I wonder if I should pluck your other eye out with the fingers you attempted to take from me or better yet…” Claude tilts the candle, hot wax slows in its pace as it tips over the brim, making it a point to nearly scathe Dimitri with it. The wax hardens over the patch and Dimitri writhes as the heat above gradually penetrates the eyepatch . “Hm, as tempting as it is, I don't think I will. I like the way you look at me.” A smirk. “Ravenous. Like an animal, but you’re not an animal, you’re a man no matter what you pretend to be.” Claude moves the candle back, the heat of it embracing Claude more so than Dimitri. 

“Credit where it’s due, you’re making this more challenging than it needs to be -can’t say that I dislike it. I just wanted some answers in regards to my deer but if this is the game you want to play, i’ll play it.” 

When Claude blows out that candle, the others light out simultaneously leaving only darkness in its wake. 

“I got ways of making you talk.” His haunting voice creeps through the crevices of Dimitri’s conscience, forcing sleep into it.


	2. Chapter 2

_I raised myself.  
My legs were weak.  
I prayed my mind be good to me.  
An awful noise  
Filled the air.  
I heard a scream in the woods somewhere._  
_______________________________________________

Consciousness slips in and out throughout the night as heavy breaths draw into the chest. Expansion of the chest with each inhale, rising, rising evermore until it burns. Dimitri held the breath until it soured in its lungs, causing it to ache and with the ache came the cough that caused the body to revolt. Sweat falls similar to globules of rain. A droplet perched on the tip of the nose until it fell to fabric, from there it was gone. Gone like the loved ones that haunt it still. The whispers, they want death, they want for another soul to befall the same fate as them. And so they beckon so hurriedly, these hands of black smoke lead Dimitri to a sleeping body mere feet away. When Dimitri didn't follow because it couldn’t, the voices got louder, angrier sounding to the ears. Ghosts have no white in their eyes, just hollowed pits of red, cruel in their words, cruel in their ways, they hover over Claude unable to touch. 

Claude remains unaware of their presence and continues to sleep. As he sleeps his back is turned to Dimitri. Only a duvet covers him from the creeping cold of the night. It is still night so there is not much visibility, but whatever is granted is done so by the dim flickers of candlelight. The lighting maynot be enough to survey the entire space, but it is enough to mark a path towards Claude. 

To kill someone in their sleep is not honorable but Dimitri has thrown honor out long ago, all that matters now is survival. It takes all of its energy to drag its body through the floor, Dimitri does this by supporting its body mass on the forearms. Legs not yet able to fully function due to the toxins, they are enraptured by a numbing snare that allows no movement still. It doesn’t matter. This beast has killed with hands alone and will do it again, for as long as it takes until her head belongs to it. Claude’s too for that matter, he is in the way and so his neck he must snap. 

Dimitri is on the side of the bed now, catching its breath, mustering up the energy to climb the bedside. The forehead rests on the floor, the gold of its hair falling in front and sticking to the humidity of skin. It is now that Dimitri begins to push up, and as the motion begins, the head tilts back to look up and that is when it sees Claude staring back. A look so jaded, that if Dimitri were a man, it would recognize it in itself. Exhaustion, the darkness below the eyes, the thinning of skin -just how long has Claude been wasting away in the loneliness?

Claude pushed Dimitri back with a finger, a mere finger, all it took was a touch to the forehead and that was enough. As Dimitri fell it took the duvet down with it. With every inch Dimitri takes off the duvet in the descension, it was another inch less that covered Claude's skin.

The beast has fallen, and when it did, its vision dissolved out of consciousness.  
_______________________________________________

When Dimitri awoke again it was to a plate of food and water at its side. Once the smell hit it was truly reminded about how starved it was. The steam carried the scent of meat and herbs, things one would find in a forest. It sees vegetables, potatoes and carrots, thickly sliced and mixed in with the thick glaze of stew. A rich meat that’s just a little undercooked, a bit juicy to the teeth. 

Squinting at the light, Dimitri raised its bound wrists to diminish the light’s intensity. It took a moment for the eye to adjust, but when it did, Dimitri was shocked to see that it was bound by its own hair. Coiled tight around wrists and ankles. Golden threads woven to act as a chain, to bind the beast to a master, its own hair was used. To add to the confusion, there’s blood interwoven in the hair. Where that blood came from, there’s just no knowing. Also something of notice, Dimitri can move without pain now, without feeling fatigued. 

The time is now then.

Hands begin to pull at opposing sides, in hopes of forcing the hair to break or stretch. It did the contrary. It all felt tighter, more constricting and Dimitri does not know why. In a huff Dimitri sat up, part of the duvet that covered the upper body fell on to the lap. Wherever Dimitri could get its teeth in, it tried to eat away at the bind. Sharpened teeth nicked the skin and Dimitri didn’t care.

“Brute force won’t work.” An offhand remark from the side. It is Claude sitting at the table. The surface is littered with books and bowls of powders, plants and liquids, all varying in texture and color. Now that the daylight permits, Dimitri looks around, the space is small but plenty for a single man. None of it is tidy. Every surface seems to act as a work area. There’s a shelf with jars, and from what Dimitri can tell, some contain animal parts. Of to the side on the ground there’s a basket of fruits and vegetables, some littered the floor, just as pages of diagrams did. They were scattered all over. In this abode there were no curtains, no carpets, but there’s piles of fur folded over a chair for the winter time. Somewhere along the way Claude had added a fireplace spacious enough to cook (noting by the stands and tools).

Bow and arrow.

A kitchen knife.

_Where is Areadbhar?_

“It’s hair. Quite comparable to steel in strength.” He then begins to grind something yellow with a granite pestle. With circular motions what looked like to be yellow petals began to smear on the walls of the mortar. Next Claude adds a thick translucent liquid and begins to mix it together, the solution turning into paste. “You should eat. Don’t let my friend go to waste now that you’ve killed her. ” Not quite an order, not quite a plea. Claude hasn’t looked Dimitri’s way, not once, and yet knows of what it's doing, knows what it's thinking.

Some pages are turned, that’s what fills the silence. He gets up and goes to the shelf, with items on hand he stops to read an open book. Eyes moving from left to right with intense focus. The hair of his scalp originally slicked back, but with time some pieces have stuck out of their pristine arrangement, granting Claude a messy look. 

He returned to his seat to continue his work and still he had not looked Dimitri’s way. Is Dimitri being underestimated?

_**I like the way you look at me** _

Those were the words from yesterday, that then seemed so playful, now they strike as lies. Liar. He won’t even look, won’t even acknowledge the contempt Dimitri is looking at him with. 

Claude looks at Dimitri. 

Right elbow resting on the table as his hand runs through his bangs, pushing the strands until they lay back. “I like the way you look at me.” Claude says and follows up with a wink.

Dimitri, for the first time, looks away. 

_______________________________________________  
It never eats in front of Claude. It either waits until Claude is asleep in order to feed. To succumb to primal urges in front of him is weakness. Dimitri cannot be weak, the beast inside will not allow it, the ghosts that haunt it will not allow it either. 

Days have passed. For each day that Dimitri stays here it is an extra day given to Edelgard’s life. And for that, it shall make claude’s death all the more painful. It is beyond infuriating to be playing his games. All this for a name? Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. A beast does not talk, but for Claude, it might become man just to tell him, just to hear him scream it during his last moments. 

A week has passed. The beast is not patient. Now less than before. If Claude has questions he did not ask them. He just talked, and talked, and talked because he knew Dimitri would not answer. Starting to think that Claude just loves hearing the sound of his own voice. 

Under Claude's supervision it had gained some weight. Hygiene has also improved with a daily use of a cool rag. Claude would always provide a bucket of water in the morning. What Dimitri didn’t drink was used to wipe over dirt and sweat, all this done when Claude's back was turned. He never left, no, always vigilant over Dimitri, like a handler would with a rambunctious pet. 

Today, however, he did leave with his bow and arrow, saying something about food reserves being low and that it was time to replenish. A fire was lit to keep the place warm in his absence, only the sound of burning wood kept the place from falling into eerie silence. While gazing intently at the fire, Dimitri thought of something. It got close to the fire as best it could, feeling its warmth stretching throughout the body. Bound wrists got near the fire, angling in such a way that the hair that bound them became heated. The skin, it is sensitive, and so it feels as if it’s burning. Dimitri withdrew its hands from the flames, once the skin could tolerate it, it repeated the action. Heat damage weakened the coiled strands of hair. Even with such little exposure to the fire, it managed to transcend into a brittle state with ease. 

Finally it breaks. Dimitri’s hair slips from wrists and into the fire, an offering of sorts, for its price of limited liberation. The fire grew redder and bigger with added sustenance, similarly styled to how its wrists looked. Red markings and bruisings with slight swelling. Dimitri begins to rub at the wrists to aid the flow of blood. What little peace this brought did not last long because Claude had barged in. It is a good thing that Dimitri’s back faced the door, it bought some time, albeit not enough. Its hands coupled together and slid underneath its shirt to hide the fact that it is bound at the wrists no more. Dimitri pushed knees to chest and pretended to shiver. All to excuse the proximity to the fire. “I forgot something.” Says Claude, voice distant as he rummaged through items. Shortly afterwards his far steps sounded closer. 

An arrowhead touches pallid flesh, specifically, the curve of the mandible. The tip of the arrow traces the shape of Dimitri’s jaw. Another one of his games. Once the arrow reaches the underside of the chin, it lifts and turns, guiding Dimitri to face him. “You’ve been behaving so well recently, will you finally tell me your name?” Claude waits for an answer. He gets none.

Dimitri swallows, its Adam's apple bobbing in its throat. Claude follows the motion with his eyes, Dimitri tries to think nothing of it. Claude begins to kneel on one knee, and as he does, from the distal end of the arrow he begins to apply pressure. It doesn’t cut skin but Dimitri is acutely aware that he could (and would) at any given time. 

The beast stills.

The arrowhead follows the same slow path, of under the chin, sliding over the Adam's apple until it reaches the divot at the base of the neck, right where the thyroid should be. Now would be the perfect time to kill him. He’s so close, it would be so easy to push his face onto the fire. So easy to snap his neck. So easy to crush his skull.

_So easy._

Claude presses the arrow inwards, his own way of yielding the beast. To be still, to obey for when he inevitably presses his thumb against Dimitri’s lips. A dollop of gold , a thick layer opaque with yellow tint smears over the top of its lips. First the bottom one, coloring it in yellow with side strokes. The pad of his finger feels soft as it continues to spread the substance, cautious to prevent any overlining. If Claude goes over the margin, he rectifies his mistake by scrubbing it with the side of a nail. Precise to a fault, the mage takes pride in his work. The pressure felt blunt, impersonal, no matter to what extent Claude works to beautify Dimitri it will be all for naught, it is a beast and beasts are never beautiful. Grotesque is more befitting, it defines its kind so well both outwardly and inwardly.

“So beautiful.” Spoken, almost romantically, as if Claude were the painter and Dimitri the muse, his inspiration, his greatest creation. Dimitri is an unresponsive partner even when it feels the pad of the thumb move against its upper lip now. A bit of tongue, wet and sticky, takes the remaining substance. It feels skin, warm and delicate and remembers yesterday and just how readily Claude walked into the jaws of a predator. “You’re so mesmerizing like this. If I made you wear this everyday just to tell you how beautiful you are, would you hold it against me?” He smiles, a little mischievous thing. It seems that no matter how much Claude takes, he always wants more. 

Now it’s the beast’s turn to take.

Dimitri took action by biting but Claude pulled back just in the nick of time. Apparently he did not want a repeat of last week’s event. What a shame, that happened to be the most enjoyable moment for Dimitri. Being able to hurt its captor, even if short lived, it fills its all consuming spirit with pride. “Growing more daring I see.” Claude comments amused as he stares at the arrow on hand. Dimitri too feels something broken. Skin at the base of the neck, a superficial cut for when Dimitri leaned forward to bite, reaching ever hungry for the taste of sweet blood. Claude had moved the arrow back in tangent, sparring this fool of a beast from a worser fate.

He walks away in silence. Admitting defeat perhaps? It is enticing to watch him fail at his own game. Claude picks up a cloth from the table to wipe his thumb, evidently doing a thorough job to wipe the sleigh clean. Dimitri’s lips begin to tingle, and is reminded that its lips are no longer of the color nude, instead an obscene yellow. Dimitri’s tongue sways over its lip to identify the lipstick. Warm, and thick, and of a different texture once it begins to dry. Dimitri’s tongue begins to move in circles. Tracing the shape of the mouth, its own tongue clearing the residue of yellow from its lips. Sensual without meaning to, the movement of tongue on lips. It causes Claude to snap the arrow on hand. 

“I wonder for how much longer will you continue with this daring act? Hours, _days_ , weeks?” A tease. Once setting the splintered remains of the arrow on the table’s surface, Claude glanced over his shoulder to give Dimitri a wink as a parting gift. 

Dimitri was truly alone now, with its thoughts and that is a dangerous thing. Dimitri could have killed him there with only two hands. That’s all it needed, and yet, it didn't. The same could be said for Claude, he could have killed Dimitri, could have made that arrow go straight through its neck if that was his desire. Could have watched as Dimitri collapsed to the ground struggling for breath, drowning in its own blood. 

It wasn’t what Claude wanted. Couldn’t . It was then that Dimitri got on its feet, bipedal like a would be man, and hopped towards the table. With the arrowhead in grasp, Dimitri returned to the fire, dipping the arrow right into the flame. It watched it glow red as it heated with the passing seconds. It was with said arrow that Dimitri would free its legs. Bound by the ankles no more as it cut through the thick of hair. 

_______________________________________________

Claude’s home was left a mess. Ransacked by a prince fallen from graze, a person who once had it all has nothing now. No weapon, no armor, no cloak -where are they? Not inside, perhaps out. The beast steps out for the first time in days. Light, sinful light embraces it, feels the warmth, feels the intensity swelter underneath scarred skin. A sensation so unusual, so magnified to the extent that it feels like a fever. No matter, it must persist. To the right there is a roofed terrace, Dimitri makes its way there and finds logs scattered in the space, an axe wedge in between the bark. There’s bones littering the floor, all small and ruined, chewed through by a strong set of jaws. It smells of feces, strong and pungent, Dimitri finds the pile of excrement on a nearby bench that carries its items. The buzzing of flies, it is irritating as the critters ring by the ears. fierce buzzing, ringing fervent, causing the head to throb. Something doesn’t feel right. Dimitri leans against an outside wall, clutching the sides of its head, adding pressure to redirect the pain. Goddess it feels hot to the touch. 

Despite the newfound ailments Dimitri begins to re-dress, mounting up the layers of armor by tightening the straps. Everything feels heavier, hotter, it gets hard to breathe with this shortness of breath. Each inhalation is sharp and insufficient, Dimitri coughs and the body aches. It matters not. It must persist, it must get to Edelgard, it cannot die in the den of some irrelevant mage. 

The gauntlets go last. Sharp, sharp claws reach for areadbhar but an arrow wisps by before it could reach. Dimitri traces the direction and finds no one on land, instead, it’s up above. A wyvern, an enormous white beast flapping its wings high above, and a rider confident with bow and arrow -it is claude. Such precise aim at such a distance, and a target so minimal in size, the space between hand and weapon no more than three inches. An expert in his craft, but a beast is not anything but determined.

Dimitri grabs its lance, running towards the beast. Beast against beast and master, blue eye met yellow, heartlessness an emotion that befriends all. Wind pressure picks up as the wyvern hurries its wings, providing air resistance, slowing down Dimitri’s pace. “Stand down!” Claude reasons, taking aim at the blue mark mounted on a black plated plackart. Dimitri too takes aim, readies the lance and waits for its crest to activate. A fierce throw, from a distance it would appear as a god shattering star. The wyvern moves but not in time. Areadbha cuts the side of its neck, blood gushes and paints the end of the weapon in crimson. It strikes Claude in the shoulder next, the momentum itself causes him and his beast to spiral downwards. But they are not dead yet, Dimitri can still hear Claude's labored breathing and so decides to end it.

As Dimitri nears, the wyvern bares its fangs and tries to bite, fortunately the beast is knowledgeable with animalistic behavior by being a beast itself, so it steps out of the way. It too bares its fangs, albeit much smaller teeth, though still as intimidating. The wyvern thrashed its tail, Dimitri dodged, and dodged and dodged until it countered with a kick to the side. Foot struck the hard and white covering of skin, causing the muscle to dip inwards, and as Dimitri pushes, it feels the vagueness of bone and pushes further on until it cracks. 

A yelp, no movement to follow. No it is Claude’s turn to suffer.

The feral creature has won over man. It sneers as it steps on the man’s chest. A short lived mockery as the upturned edges of Dimitri’s lips turned into a neutral line. There’s two Claude’s, both writhing in pain and gasping for air. Dimitri’s vision has duplicated and feels a blush grow terribly hot at the cheeks. A fault with Dimitri’s stance, it waverns, but it takes a hold of the spear embedded on its victim’s shoulders to regain composure. Claude has the audacity to laugh now of all times. “Have I ever told you how much I love the way you look- AGH!” His mouth had opened so big and pretty to scream as Dimitri twisted the lance of tremendous width. Dimitri coughs, continues coughing until its body forces it back. Build-up, acidic build up travels up the esophagus and forces out of the beast’s throat. On its hands and knees, it vomits its putrid insides, the body’s way of purging itself of sin. “The poison has finally taken effect.” Claude’s claims with the faintest of voices, haunting, cackling, like one of the ghosts. Poison? What poison? Oh, **the lipstick.**

Dimitri blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the positive reception! I embrace each view, each kudo, each comment with such intensity just know that it is greatly appreciated. Special thanks to smokey, his input was of tremendous help in writing this chapter.
> 
> One thing I want to say is next chapter is when the story will really begin to kick off, it will most likely be the longest chapter because there's a lot I want to fit regarding their interactions and how it changes over time so it might take a while to complete. 
> 
> Another important mention is that this is all solely based on Dimitri's point of view. I know that the it/its descriptors can be very confusing but you will only see that for one more chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

_A woman's voice!  
I quickly ran  
Into the trees with empty hands  
A fox it was  
He shook afraid  
I spoke no words, no sound he made_

Edelgard and Dimitri, two people that were first brought together by destiny, and now again in a feverish dream.

They were brother and sister once, still are, no matter how much its blood rebukes it. With a bond forged through marriage they had learned to love each other once. They were children, it was easier way back when, when matters such as justice, power, domination and hatred weren’t prevalent in their minds. Dimitri doesn’t know much of its birth mother, save for the things its father had said, making her nothing but a tale with no face. All aspects of the title mother taken by Patricia, Edelgard’s mother. Sweet sweet woman, such a shame how she ended up.

During their younger years they were thick as thieves, as the saying goes. Always in each other’s shadows, in each other’s minds. Dimitri had admired Edelgard, a conduit for tenacity, for tact and confidence, admired how she carried herself with such sharpness, _still does_. From a small age she behaved as if the world had chewed and spit her out, with such wisdom and such candor, that she too learned how to chew back at the world. Dimitri wasn’t that. Dimitri was only a boy with a title, a boy with a tremendous burden. May have been imperfect, but back then a human being -- a happy, yet naive human being.

Dimitri’s problem was that he loved too much. His father, his mother, his sister, his friends. Every life had meaning, had importance, and must be protected. He had a clear distinction of what was right and what was wrong, black and white, never crisscrossing to form gray. 

His body was strong but his heart was weak. He could never be as objective as Edelgard was. He could not look at the masses of people and think _they will die for me_. He thought instead that he would rather die for them. It was his duty to protect. In actuality there was more to it than that. He had to lead, but to lead meant that Dimitri needed to set himself aside. A leader must separate themselves from their subordinates due to conflict of interests. Hard decisions need to be made and bonds of friendship needn’t be in the way.

But Dimitri didn’t want that. He wanted to be seen as an equal, to be someone whose life wasn’t worth more while others are worthed less than his. He wanted to belong, wanted someone to not refer to him by the title of a monarch.

Most importantly, he wanted to protect his people.

At one point during their early adolescence, Edelgard had to leave with her uncle Arundel for some teachings. Before she left, Dimitri had fashioned a dagger for her to keep her safe in moments he couldn’t. Edelgard of all people didn’t need protecting, still, it granted him peace of mind. His parting words to her were, “you've got to cut a path to the future you wish for, no matter what.”

After her departure he began to focus more on his training and studies, all to shape himself to be a ruler worthy of his people’s trust. His father, Lambert, had been his biggest inspiration, always wanted to be like him, a benevolent ruler.

When Edelgard eventually returned, Lambert wasn’t as benevolent.

She returned with radical ideas against the Church of Seiros for its fault in society’s current standing. There're many flaws in a system upholded by the church, especially against mages.

When a mage is born, they are born without a crest, however, they’re able to use magic. Doing so without the goddess’ blessing is considered desecration. This world values crests and nobility above all else, if you don’t fit the framework, you’re nothing.< /p>

“People believe Crests are blessings from the Goddess, that they are necessary to maintain order in Fódlan. But the people are wrong. Crests are to blame for this brutal, irrational world we live in.”

In her own way she asked for his assistance to wage a war against the church and reform Fódlan. For the future, for the betterment of the people. Lambert had refused, war would cause nothing but strife during this period of peace and threatened his radicalized daughter that if she spoke of it again she would have no land, no titles, **nothing**.

Edelgard was never the same after that discussion, never the same after that trip with her uncle. Whatever happened in those years it changed her irreparably. Cordial greetings exchanged between siblings became cold looks of acknowledgement. Once upon a time they would make time for one another, then it appeared that tolerating Dimitri’s presence was a noble duty all of its own.

Until one night it wasn’t, she had approached Dimitri at his door.

“Do you think someone who fights for their ideals is a bad person?” She asks.

“It depends on what the ideals are.” Is his answer. Her uncertainty takes him by surprise. Dimitri is aware that she speaks of no one else but herself. He can see it in her expression, her face reflected upon an unsheathed dagger. A haunting image. Her eyes bore no soul, only a vast emptiness as if she untethered herself from emotion. It was the dagger he gifted her many moons ago. The blue twine from the handle is worn out, discolored, like a painting that has lost its worth from being touched far too long.

“El, war is not the answer.” This is what it was all about, her need to start a war. All it would bring about is senseless violence upon a world that’s already too violent. There are other ways to bring about change.

“Then I’ll make it my answer.” Why did she bring the dagger? Was it to kill him? If so he didn’t feel threatened or afraid. What he saw was a young girl, a lost girl, abandoned by god and forced to turn to the blade for worship.

Edelgard sheathed her dagger and left just as quietly as she had arrived.

The morning following had not been as quiet.

Dimitri awakes to a horrible siege within the castle walls. Bodies littered the floor, some of which he’d recognized as his royal guard. Others wore hooded robes with grimoires bloodied and discarded.

**Mages.**

Dimitri fought as many as he could, injured all those who attacked first, though not fatally. His heart was still too fragile for murder.

Dimitri raced to the throne room and arrived to a horrific sight. The king and queen sat lifeless at their respective thrones, ornate garments drenched in blood from the waist up. His father’s throat was slit; a clean, deep cut akin to a gruesome smile. Lambert's skin pale white from blood loss. A stark contrast from the vibrant red as it fell into his lap. It spills onto his seat, overflows and drapes itself over the floor where it would then drop down the steps. Patricia was still alive but suffering from a similar wound, gurgling and twitching. Her expression mortified at what her daughter had done. And then there was silence, her trail of crimson joining her husband's.

Edelgard had stood between them, triumphant but without the glee that comes with winning. Dimitri looked at one of her hands and saw that she held the dagger that he had gifted her, coated in blood, _their blood_.

His heart broke in two.

Ripples formed in the puddle Edelgard stood in as she began to turn. The soles of her feet covered in treason. A red dress worn to match the carnage and horned adornments to match the devil she became. “I’ve cut my path, brother, just as you once asked of me.”

Something other than his heart broke then, his capacity to love, even himself.

A guttural scream left him, the noise a few pitches deeper that came with age.

No longer the young man in its dreams, when Dimitri awakes it was older. Once again a beast. Arms unbinded, free with movement as it grasped the air with scarred fingertips. The black of night encases the beast, fingers twitch as it grasped at nothing within the coolness of crisp air. It feels pleasant against burning flesh. The insides cosmically hot as if the body would burst into flames within a moment’s notice.

There’s a figure within the fog, moving, in precise measure. It is feminine based on the curvature of the torso, a slight swell to chest, a smallness to the waist. The rest is clouded beyond recognition. Upon its state of unclarity, it took far too long for Dimitri to realize that it wasn’t indoors. No wooden ceiling, no lumber fit to become walls, no Claude to keep it caged. Just a beast alone in the wilderness.

There is no better outcome, Dimitri figured, now that it has been abandoned to the wild. The beast is free to pursue its vengeance on everyone who's wronged it, starting with Claude.

“Brother-” Dimitri froze. He heard the same voice that cursed its nightmares still. That vile woman is here. Body, mind and soul told it to kill, so thirsty for blood, _her_ blood to be spilled in commemoration to the fallen ones. Yet, it's body could no longer move. Dimitri’s limbs felt weighted down, sinking slowly into the earth, being consumed by it. The soil slowly crept up like a grave to take it deep under to join Dimitri’s fallen parents.

“Why have you chosen this path, brother?” Her hand comes into view, red glove, red blood, what truly covers it? Does it matter?

Fingertips push Dimitri’s bangs aside, sweeping the hairs covering its face to the right. The hand retreats back into the fog, untraceable. Her voice silences the critters when she speaks in remembrance.

“There is nothing for you in the past. While chasing it, you have foregone your future. That’s why you could have never joined me. You were unwilling to see the change that this world needs.”

“You never gave me a choice.” The voice that came out of its throat was not the voice of now, it is the voice of yesteryears, when Dimitri was much younger. Dimitri closes its eye with a wince. Its head throbs with such ferocity that it feels as if its head will be split in two, right down to the bone. The pain is debilitating and forces Dimitri to lose focus of Edelgard.

Something cold and wet presses against its forehead. A rag. It sees Patricia, unscathed, clean, as virtuous as always.

“There is always a choice.” She says, taking pity at the dying animal before her. She decides as an act of kindness to bury it, to force it deep into the soil.

“But you made the wrong one, you watched as I died and did nothing.” Her hands are at his chest and she pushes down. It’s sinking, sinking and sinking until Dimitri feels dirt in its ears.

Then comes in it's father, he helps her too. They both push it into the darkness of the earth.

“You once told me you wanted to be a protector, Dimitri.” Lambert, the voice is Lambert’s. “You could never protect us, you can’t even protect yourself.”

Their faces begin to distort into the faces of every fallen soldier, the savagery of their deaths etched onto their disposition.

The guilt literally buries Dimitri.

Voices beseech that Dimitri finally join them. The weight of the world crashes down, a mouthful of dirt as Dimitri attempts to form an apology for its failure. The dead had wanted vengeance, a vengeance Dimitri failed to deliver.

Edelgard killed the prince and the ghost that buried what became of the prince.

Nothing else remains for Dimitri but to embrace death, and it does because it has no other choice. Smothered far in the underground where only darkness is prevalent. And yet, somehow, Dimitri is still conscious, ever so perceptive of the dirt shifting above. A load that becomes lighter, as if someone is shoveling the dirt off. With every fistful of soil Dimitri’s weight becomes less and less, until it is able to finally draw breath.

No longer is there fog, no longer does Dimitri feel the temperature drop of the night. Instead what greets Dimitri is the light of a new sunrise. It wants to extend its hand out, wants to be bathed in the sun’s glow, to be blessed by the goddess but ultimately doesn’t because this is its penance.

“Both the living and the dead cling to us without any regard for our own lives.” _It’s Claude_. It’s his voice that is speaking as omnipotent as ever.

Dimitri continues to sink, the corpses cling to it, weighing it down, unable to release it from the shackles of the past. They want Dimitri to remain in the darkness, to be sheltered from light, to die just as they had.

“It’s up to us to break free of that weight and follow the path that we believe in.” Claude’s hand comes into view, reaching out, waiting for Dimitri to take a hold.

“I want…” What does Dimitri want? A normal life. To be a man unruined, and to live a happy life without the burdens of a crown. To love and be loved not for what it offers, but for what it is. Wants to break free of the ghosts, of the things that continue to haunt it. These are the things the man within desires but knows it cannot have, there’s too much injustice in this world and someone has to start somewhere.

“I want to...” Straining under the pressure, Dimitri is finally able to take hold of Claude’s hand. Fingers tight against the other, Claude is the most solid presence it has felt of yet. Slowly Claude pulls Dimitri up until it’s completely unearthed. The grave is no longer there.

“I want to break free.” Dimitri admits. Far too delicate of an admission to be given to someone so untrustworthy.

“Then wake up.” Claude offers, as he squeezes Dimitri’s hand harder until Dimitri perceives the pressure.

Dimitri wakes up, truly wakes up, in the most lucid state he’s been in ages. Born again, brought into this world by a mage in the woods somewhere. The surroundings that greet Dimitri is familiar. He’s inside the cabin once again. He moves his hand and finds that something is impeding him from fully clenching it into a fist. It was Claude’s hands, fully containing his. Claude’s presence is adamant on his fingers. Dimitri could feel the bulging of scars pressing into the warm tones of Claude’s hands.

“You’ve been out cold for three days.” _Three days._ No one else to blame other than the poison giver himself. “Nothing I did could wake you. I thought you were truly gone, that is until I heard you say her name.”

**Edelgard.**

“Edelgard.” Claude had said, impeccable timing, as if he heard it from Dimitri’s mind. Dimitri looked away, unresponsive as salt began to be poured into all of his open wounds. He will kill Edelgard, it’s the only way to set himself free.

Claude pulls his hand, drawing Dimitri's attention towards Claude’s chest, where he placed Dimitri’s hand against him. The pulsing of his heart is a steady thing against Dimitri’s palm. Once a ravenous being, his deft fingers would have clawed their way in to tear out the mage's heart. The bloody image would have excited the beast, bur now the beast is dormant; sleeping inside the cage of an exhausted man.

“Dimitri.” His name fell from Claude’s lip with uncertainty. That caught Dimitri’s attention. “That’s the name of Edelgard’s brother, _I think_. They say he’s dead but I think he’s alive.” Not a lie, Claude’s heart never fluctuated.

“He’s dead.” Dimitri clarifies, setting his own name on a tombstone. This is the first time he’s outwardly spoken to Claude, a half-truth.

“You sound certain.” Claude inquires with a raise of the eyebrow. Dimitri attempts to pull his hand away, but that causes Claude to hold on more steadily.

“Since you’re feeling so talkative, will you tell me your name now?” A grimace from Dimitri. This is just another game, another ploy to get underneath his skin.

“I think you already know the answer,” Dimitri hissed. Claude’s touch is acid. **Venomous**. He has poisoned Dimitri twice and he deserves no reward for it. Dimitri manages to pull away and turns to the side to flee from Claude’s studious gaze.

“If I did I wouldn’t be asking.” He feels Claude’s smile without even looking.

____________________

Whatever amicable mood Dimitri was feeling prior to this moment, he wasn’t feeling it now. His words were still very limited, having only spoken to Claude for that short while only. That was a mistake, he learns, because it only encouraged Claude to ask more questions. Dimitri's own questions had been kept under sealed lips: he'd realize that Claude doesn’t do favors unless there’s something for him in return. Hence their current predicament. Dimitri cannot trust Claude and Claude cannot trust Dimitri, neither of them have proven themselves to be capable of such an ordeal.

Dimitri wants to know many things. Primarily, what was that poison that nearly killed him, and why it so readily eased his acceptance into manhood. Sure he’s had nightmares, many at that, but none quite as vivid as this previous one. It truly had felt like he’d been on the brink of death, and perhaps he was. Is it truly alright to consider himself as human despite all the atrocities he committed? All those people he’s killed, all those people he watched die, some by his hand - is it truly fine to appeal towards his humanity knowing the sins he’s committed? It doesn’t feel just. Part of his heart denies it, but another part, a much quieter part, acknowledges that perhaps the path to Edelgard is not the path of a beast, but a king. A king chosen to reclaim that which was stolen. A beast cannot do that, a beast can only be wild. 

It’s a struggle to view himself as a man after all this time. Is he truly a man? Or is it just a persona for him to hide underneath? It’s hard to distinguish where one begins and the other ends. Perhaps what he is now is both, a beast under the skin of a man.

His head hurts.

An ache that throbs in slow succession. His hands come to grip at his temples, adding pressure to those areas. That’s when Dimitri noticed that he’s unrestricted. Compared to the first few days, he is free to move. He finds that odd considering his failed attempt to kill Claude, when was that, three days ago? Speaking of which, he spots Claude moving with ease. Claude's shoulder moves with mighty ease, no period of latency when his arm is in motion. Not a single break in expression, nothing that would signify soreness. Maybe that’s the impression Claude wants to give, anything else would mean presenting weakness. Still, he doubts it, since the first night Claude has proven himself capable of healing with the assistance of magic. And maybe magic is what saved Dimitri.

Why even put him in that predicament if the intent was for him not to die? A lot of Claude’s actions did not make sense to Dimitri. What even is the purpose of keeping him in captivity? Especially someone who is out to get you? For quite a smart man he does many stupid things. Dimitri wants to question it, but he knows he'd only get a riddling response. It’s never a straight answer with Claude.

Claude plopped a wooden bucket next to Dimitri. Inside was a set of fabrics and a rag folded over the rim. Claude held his own bucket in comparison.

“Get up. We’re going to wash in the river.” He leaves no room for compromise. The scrunching of Claude’s nose tells Dimitri that his hygiene leaves much in question. It has been three days, it’s only natural that he stinks. 

It is of some comfort to know that Claude did not wash him. The thought of being stripped naked in a state of unconsciousness fills him with unease. Nevertheless, as Dimitri gets up. He notes that his body feels much lighter. The mass of his body lessens while being unable to eat. Add this to the fact that the layer of armor had been removed, he feels much lighter than his original fitted drobe. 

Dimitri grabs the bucket and follows in his footsteps to the outside. None of it sat right with Dimitri. He made a daring escape three days ago, in which he wounded his capturer and his beast. Granted Dimitri almost died due to the affliction of the poison, still, it feels like he’s been let off easily. The punishment doesn’t fit the crime, perhaps near death does, but Dimitri has not been conditioned to think that way. He’s endured physical torture at the hands of Edelgard, but these mind games that Claude plays, they’re much harder to inter-

He’s hit. 

Straight to the rib, a defying force had struck him and sent him hurtling to the ground. A blur of white, edges fuzzy with movement but becomes clear once stilled. A white tail. It moves with a swiftness that a lack of bones would grant it, flexible, and capable of whipping a target with tremendous speed, just as it did now. The wyvern enacts its revenge.

Much like Claude, it seems to be well - no doubt in respect to Claude’s magic. Dimitri bares his fangs, a beast once more. The hairs on the nape stand erect, the pupil dilates at the sight of his enemy. Beast against beast, it is time to settle it once and for all. 

Dimitri readies his stance, like a lion ready to attack. The wyvern too develops an alternative form to that. Rows of teeth grinding on one another as adrenaline begins to dispel the ache on his side. The wyvern roars and Dimitri defies with one of his own, however, his animalistic tendency is cut short. 

Claude has his touch pressing against Dimitri’s chin. The space between pollex and index finger cushioned underneath the chin while pollex presses on one side of the mandible and the index finger on the opposing side. He shuts Dimitri’s mouth and gestures its face towards him. 

“Enough. Do you want me to poison you again?” _No_ , Dimitri thinks, unable to say the words. As a response, Dimitri’s nostrils flare, expelling frustration in the form of hot air. Dimitri ends up breaking free, but does not continue his squabble with the wyvern. There’s just a handful of undecipherable grunts and mumbles that leaves his mouth as he picks up the discarded bucket and clothes. As he looked back to Claude, Dimitri found him petting his wyvern. Dimitri scowls, unable to stomach the sight and marches forward.

____________________

“You’re not a beast, you’re a man. You do not need to fight the battles that beasts do.” It was Claude who spoke again, and it was Dimitri’s turn to ignore him, **again**. Dimitri picked up the pace, creating distance between them. The further away from Claude, the easier it was to think. Still, no matter the distance, the words of Claude are already seeded in its brain. 

_A man_. A man Claude says, he knows Dimitri is a man when he himself does not know what he is - constantly shifting from man to beast, beast to man, Claude cannot hope to understand the struggle Dimitri faces. He will never understand Dimitri’s warped perception of self. 

Dimitri punches a tree in a sudden fit of frustration, and it breaks the bark. A bit of blood splints off his knuckles. 

“You’re mad.” Claude comments, with no emotion one way or another. They leave it at that until they reach the river. 

The sounds of a flowing stream does very little to calm Dimitri. Thoughts so muddled, it is so unclear on what he truly needs at the moment. He knows that he wants to fight, but that wouldn’t benefit anyone in this arrangement. In the time it takes Dimitri to clear his head, Claude was successful in removing his wardrobe. Dimitri was caught completely off-guard by the frontal view once it was time to look. Once upon a time Dimitri had been a stickler for proper etiquette. It appears that part of him was still alive there somewhere. 

The body in front of it was more than an eyeful, overwhelming actually, with the nonchalant behavior Claude displaced. What came as a surprise is that Claude is not circumcised. Could it be that he is not from around these lands that so commonly circumcise their young boys? To see the foreskin stretch over the head is an odd sight. Dimitri looks away with cheeks flushed, attempting to regain what little composure existed. 

“Don’t get all shy on me now.” Comments Claude, as he begins his walk into the river. The noise from his legs defying the current is what causes Dimitri to look again, unknown as to why, Dimitri’s eye falls to the swell of Claude’s ass. Soon it went out of view, in fact the whole body did, as Claude submerged under the water for roughly ten seconds. Once he came back again, water clung to every pore, every follicle, leaving no single dry spot behind. His hair was down and framing his face, the texture not straight but instead with a pattern. Dimitri continued to watch as Clause began to clean himself, watched as he got the rag and scrubbed it over his limbs. Starting with the arm, the wet cloth glided over the tinted marks and still the marks remained, proving to be permanent. Now that Claude is fully nude Dimitri is able to fully see the extent of just how much Claude’s body is tattooed. Arms, legs, feet, torso, even the sides of his glutes. It’s not that there’s an overabundance of tattoos, they’re just spaced out. And Dimitri cannot stop studying them. These symbols are familiar, some were from Claude’s books, so it wouldn’t be too far off to think that they’re magic related. 

A glint.

The sun’s light bounces off Claude’s nipple piercing and straight into Dimitri’s eye. A low shimmer that causes Dimitri to look elsewhere, to the fullness of his thighs more specifically. The defined muscles are perfectly sculpted, leading to the lower legs. The calves are prominent, with being an archer one must be quick and light on their feet and able to scale heights. The arms on the other hand are thinner, and upon further looking, his legs are longer in comparison to the torso. A few scars litter the body, some darker in pigmentation in contrast to his natural skin colors. Small nicks here and there, any imperfection that Claude could have is veiled under the ink. 

“If you don’t wash yourself you’ll be sleeping outside with you know who.” Dimitri knows who, the wyvern, and if that is indeed the case one of them will not live to see daylight. 

Dimitri acknowledges the request and goes behind a tree to remove the clothing. Faced with the nudity of his body, Dimitri realizes how much of a man he resembles. He is a man, he has to remind himself. His body is not something he finds pleasing to look at. Shoulders are too wide while his waist is the complete opposite. His appendages are long and not enough muscle to fill the space in between. He’s not skinny, he’s not overly muscular, he’s somewhere in the inbetween. Add this default to the number of cicatrixes that mount his body and he becomes the ugliest man to roam the earth. He lacks an eye, he lacks a nipple, he lacks part of his identity. 

This time it is Dimitri’s turn to get into the water. Toes dip in first to test the temperature, _it’s cold_ , but it is custom. He walks in without a flinch. Being born in a frozen hellscape, this means nothing to a man that’s known only struggle. Dimitri uses the bucket to pour water over himself, the cold of it bites at his skin, leaving goosebumps in all of the areas. With the rag he generates heat over the areas being washed, back and forth strokes until he feels the areas become heated. 

“The world has not been kind to you.” Claude's voice, almost a whisper against Dimitri’s ear. Dimitri stops scrubbing. “I suppose I have not been kind to you either.” Claude continues, almost guilty. _He pities him_. Dimitri begins to scrub again, harder and faster until the skin becomes irritated. 

It is during the first sign of sunfall that they leave the river to get dressed. 

The clothes Dimitri wears is not his own. Claude had equipped a white tunic for him to wear, in terms of design it was bare but it had deep v-neck cut to it. The edges of the tunic were sewed in with a peculiar stitch pattern done by gold threading. Dimitri had not properly dried his skin so the fabric hugged his skin tightly, and since the fabric is white, it became see-through in certain areas. The black pants that came with it fit even tighter, they were not his size, they were Claude’s. Since the other man is shorter than Dimitri, the pants fit small, the hem of the pants reached above his ankles. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” Claude approaches with a belt on his hands. Golden ornaments surround the leather. Ah, _there’s the restriction_. Dimitri puts his hands together and puts them out so that Claude could bind his wrists. This is the goal, this is what makes sense, to drive him, _or it_ , back into that caged mentality. 

This belt does not go where Dimitri expects it, rather, it goes around his waist as a decorative piece to go in accordance with the outfit. With the clink of the belt buckle, Dimitri remembers to draw breath. It is then that Claude takes a hold of his wrists and separates his hands, the entire time looking up at Dimitri. Both bodies are still cold from the water, even when he’s being held so closely, their bodies fail to produce heat. 

“You’ve helped me see that I have forgotten something important.” Claude speaks, with a slight waver in his voice. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but, I won’t hurt you, just as long as you don’t try to hurt me.” 

Claude lets go of his wrists. “I won’t restrain you unless you start lashing out.” 

What could have spurred this change of heart? Was it because Dimitri hurt him, and he is scared that he would do it again and in an attempt to save himself? Does he want to be in Dimitri’s good graces? Is it guilt for nearly killing him with poison? Is it pity for all the shit Dimitri’s been through? **Which is it, Claude.**

“Why didn’t you let me die?” It is Dimitri’s turn to speak now. No matter which way one looks at it, Dimitri’s death will only benefit Claude. Dimitri’s death will benefit a lot of people, especially Claude, right here, right now. Claude wouldn’t have to sleep with one eye open, wouldn’t have to waste his food and water taking care of a captive. So then why?

“Because every life is precious, even your own.” The words come easy to Claude, as if they’re rehearsed. They’re lies, though. Dimitri’s life is not precious, it is cursed. Only reason why Claude would find value in his life is because he knows, he’s known all this time who Dimitri Alexandre Bladdyid truly is. 

“Let me go then.” Dimitri says to see the extent of his lie.

“I can’t.” Claude answers but doesn’t specify further, his voice is too controlled. 

“Why not?” They should be heading back now. Every moment they’re here is a moment wasted. The sun is tucking away and soon enough it will be hazardous for them to walk through the woods with no light source. Despite knowing this, Dimitri didn’t care, and wouldn't move until he got the answer he wanted. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that I’m lonely?” **_That’s not the answer he wanted_**. He stands in silence as he watches the orange and pink backdrops of the sky as the sun sets. Clouds begin to clear out to make room for the stars above, it is a process of nature just as flowing river is a process of nature. 

Claude looks at him dejectedly, as if he came to the conclusion that the answer would be no, so for integrity’s sake, he repressed the truth and brought forth a lie. A wink and a smile with two short words, “just kidding.” 

Dimitri knew he wasn’t kidding, that had been a farce. He’d been watching afterall. He saw how the spark of hope ignited in those green eyes, vibrant and daring, but then soon came to a realization and that caused the spark to die off.

They made it back before it got too dark.

____________________

A number of days have passed without incident. There have been changes in the routine, unexpected things that have caused a shift in their current relationship, if one can even call it that. They eat on the same table now, share the same meals, though something of difference is the drink. Dimitri’s drink was always pre-poured into a cup. Claude never poured it in front of him, doesn’t even know if the jug is the same one he serves himself with. The color of the drink is the same but the consistency is not. Whenever Claude swallowed, it went down smoothly, when Dimitri drank, it was of a thicker consistency, almost alike stock. Despite noticing this change, Dimitri never called Claude on it. He didn’t feel much of a difference, lest it came to his visions. His nights became less turbulent, the apparitions that haunt him less frequent. Perhaps it should all be attributed to the drink. 

It is not that they trust each other, they have just reached a mutual understanding. What this understanding is, Dimitri is not quite sure. All he knows is that Claude does not sleep at night, and if he does, it is only for limited hours. The circles beneath his eyes are more prominent with each passing hour, acting like shadows behind a curtain, adding mystery to his worn physique. At times Dimitri has woken to the sounds of pages being erratically turned, followed by murmured apologies for having woken Dimitri up with the ruckus. 

Claude left in the morning and Dimitri followed. He wasn’t prompted to do so, he did it out of his own volition. As to why, he didn’t know. Something was different, and Claude wasn’t as willing to entertain as other times. A comfortable silence fell amongst them. On hand the mage carried a basket, the contents inside unknown to Dimitri but he can guess there’s glass inside due to the delicate rattling that comes with every step. 

The mist of the morning is blinding, it makes him reminisce of the dream involving Edelgard and their deceased parents. It brings forth a feeling of dread as he looks in every still shadow, he waits for movement, waits for a voice not fated to come. His steps begin to drag, the pace slowing down until the distance between Claude and him becomes too great. **He’s alone now**. No sound permeates his ears, there is only the eerie silence of a cursed forest. The droplets of water suspended in air envelope him in a fog of chilling gray, cool to his skin and hot to his lungs. Air stops to flow through the expanse of his body once he hears Edelgard. A voice that’s clear as day, a voice that shouldn’t exist in such close proximity. Left to right, right to left, up and down, down and up, are all the directions Dimitri faced in attempts to track her. She was heard in all directions. Unable to identify her through auditory means, he began to rely on visual cues. At any sign of movement he would pounce. The man begins to shed his skin, and woken again is the beast that lurked beneath. It is in these rare moments that it makes an appearance. In moments in which Dimitri loses a grip on reality and begins to rely on lesser instincts. 

A touch to the shoulder, so light as if it did not wish to be discovered initially, but it felt the fingers latch on until the grip was absolute. The presence came from behind, so without delay Dimitri turned and stuck something solid with the knuckles. A hit so hard it scraped skin from the fist, showcasing a few drops of blood as a result. A slight throb struck his hand, but nothing comparable to what the other felt, that’s for certain. Upon viewing with clarity, the beast retracted, leaving the husk of a man to bear the consequence. Dimitri’s hand began to shake at what reality showed him, and that was Claude on the ground wincing in pain and the items he held discarded on the soil. Broken jars spilled paints of yellows and blues, some sequences mixing to form green, the volatile color of his eyes.

Blood leaked down the side of his face from an abrasion where the zygomatic bone is. Dark crimson resembled bloody tears as it followed the same crystalline path. Claude’s digits, clothed, traced the wet trail until it reached the origin. At that he grimaced, the injury being so new was tender to the touch. He moved his hand away and began to inspect the blood that soiled his glove. He does so in an off putting gesture, rubbing it on his fingers, to see how thin it would spread. Claude had said nothing, needed to say nothing. Words are not necessary to tell the emotion he felt, wearing it was simply enough. 

This is time that Dimitri could spend apologizing but doesn’t, instead, Claude’s words went on repeat in his head, _I won’t hurt you, just as long as you don’t try to hurt me_. He thinks about the punishment that would await him, what poison Claude would inflict next and if that would be what finally ends him.

Dimitri is not much of a talker nowadays, even so, something compels him to say something. Nothing comes out. His voice is a crypt in this moment of purgatory. He extends his hand for Claude to take, part of him hopes that he does but knows full well that Claude is proud. As expected, his efforts were neglected and Claude stands on his own two feet by his own means. 

The male before him salvaged what he could of his items. Every shard with paint mixed with the red of his fingers. Everything of worth went back into the basket, and with that he made his peace. So began his walk further into the forest, the mist still thick sheltered his silhouette from sight. He crept so silently, so wordless in his flee that it frightened Dimitri.

Dimitri waited until the mist cleared to start his search. Logically, he should be plotting his escape, it’s the perfect time. Nothing is stopping him from going back to the cabin. Nothing to hinder him from retrieving his personal belongings and stealing some essentials for the journey ahead. Nothing is stopping him.

_Except himself._

He headed the opposite way of the cabin, the way Claude had taken. He’s a decent tracker, he’s hunted and fed from the wildlife in this forest. Finding a human would not be a challenging task. In the beginning, dried paint chips formed a recognizable path. Varied droplets of yellow and blue bled over the pasture until it no longer did, so he had to adapt to other techniques. Dimitri crouched to survey for other signs, and that’s when he spotted some distrubed leaves. He slightly tousled them with his fingers to try and spot a foot print beneath, but as it would seem, the leaves served as a sort of padding. Needless to say a direction was followed. After a large number of steps with no new identifiers, Dimitri began to head back thinking he strayed from the correct path. But the more he walked the more he began to realize there is no correct path. With every corner comes an overbearing sense of familiarity. He’s been through here, though all the turns should indicate otherwise. 

Three times he’s passed by that bird’s nest, and each time he walked a different direction. Every tree became indesconcernable from the next. This is his mind playing games, it has to be, it is not the forest, _it is not the forest._

**Rustling.**

Coming from the nearby bushes. First instinct was to think of Claude, so that’s where he went, with no care on what lurked on the other side. Crossing the shrub he found no resistance, as the arm had been extended it touched nothing. Fingers twitched against air and he appears as a fool because of it. Claude is not here, instead, Dimitri finds a doe. 

White spots nestled on the toasted exterior of her fur, a shade that matched her underside and extended up over her neck. Lashes thick and curled, reminds him very much of Claude. The outline of her eyes, wide and expressive, also reminds him of Claude. The animal wanders towards Dimitri, at first smelling, gauging the threat this human would offer. Dimitri is only reminded of blood. Reminded of how many of these animals he had killed for nourishment, and for that, he harbors no sentiment of guilt. He had to eat, just like all animals do, it is only survival. And yet, when the doe begins to lick his hand, the wetness of tongue beginning to soothe over bloodied knuckles, he moves it. It stings without actually stinging. He doesn’t know what to do with this affection, he’s done nothing to deserve it, on the contrary he’s done the opposite. 

The doe wastes no more time on him and decides to go elsewhere. He follows. A man following an animal, who is truly the predator and who is prey? It’s hard to distinguish. 

After minutes of walking, he finds Claude perched on a rock. 

Claude is many things but angry is not one of them, disappointed is closer to the truth. 

Legs crossed as he’s seated on the rocky terrain, appearing juvenile. His hands stained with the remnants of paint leave behind lines of yellow. Gold soaked skin a tool to inflict his artful vision upon a living canvas. Symbols Dimitri has seen before, a third eye smeared in the center of the head. Albeit not with the same amount of detail, Claude was forced to simplify his designs due to the scarce mediums. Some lines would be incomplete and so he would have to go over it numerous times in a pattern. Dimitri watched Claude work in silence, and in a distance at that. 

His hands came to either side of the deer’s head, ensuring to be passive as he brought his forehead against the deer’s frontal bone (mindful not to touch the antlers). It is then that his markings glowed, and in mimicry, so did the animal’s. A yellow light emits from them both, a soft thing that breaks into particles and permeates the air, like fireflies under the night sky. Dimitri noticed that Claude’s eyes were entirely yellow, including the would-be white of the eyes. With a blink of the eyes that obscene color was gone. 

As they separate, paint transfers from animal to man, something that doesn’t strike Dimitri as intentional. The doe left the blonde's side to strut over to the deer. If Claude had taken notice of Dimitri, he didn’t acknowledge it, and instead focused his attention on the female and began to run his fingers through the fur. Short hairs parting as fingers clipped through, Claude’s ministrations were playful at best.

The blood on his face has dried, successfully managing to taint his boyish exterior in a dark red. That’s not all though, now a bruise lays over the area Dimitri had struck. Layerings of purple and red overlay the cheekbone. It’s swollen, to the extent of affecting his eye. In appearance it is smaller compared to its pair. 

Dimitri would like to touch.

So he will.

Hurried in his steps he rubs his thumb against the bruise, wanting to know if the bone underneath is still intact. It takes considerable pressure to get through the swell, and with Claude moving against him it only makes things harder. The remaining four digits stretch to the back of Claude’s head, getting a good grip to maintain a stable hold. 

A groan from Dimitri when Claude claims his wrist. His hold shaky as he fights through the surges of pain because let’s face it, Dimitri lacks control. 

After so many years he still has difficulties handling delicate things.

“Don’t look at me like that.” A contradiction laced with a tone of seriousness. Claude reminds him that he is not delicate.

“I thought you liked the way I looked at you.” That’s what Claude had always said - don’t take it back now.

“Not when you have that sad look in your eye.” That look of regret. The expression that embodies the dread of touching anything for fear of breaking it. 

He wants to say sorry, but cannot bring himself to do it. Sensing his apprehension, Claude guides Dimitri’s hand by the wrist. His hand falls slack as he dangles it before his lips so that kisses could be laid on the minor cuts on Dimitri’s knuckles. Tension leaves Dimitri’s body and sighs at the way Claude handles him. 

_I’m sorry._

“ I know.” Claude answers, as if aware of his inner struggle.

_I’m trying._

“I know.” He repeats.

____________________

The fallen prince keeps falling, and falling and falling and falling right on to a chair. Vertebrae following the alignment of the chair, straight, and only because Claude keeps him there. Pushing his smaller form lush against Dimitri to stabilize him, keep him from lurching forward and on to the floor. There is a shake of the head that follows, golden tresses tussling side to side at the rejection. Dimitri doesn't want to drink what Claude offers, and although the other man made it seem optional, the pressing matter against his lips told the opposite. 

Cold glass could not get in between sealed lips, and thus, bits of the concoction was wasted on his clothing. It smelled medicinal, of various herbs and gatherings, melded into a mixture that felt thick and cool against a thinning pair of lips. There is disappointment once again but no chide to follow on after. Instead Claude presses his knee between Dimitri’s legs, easing his way into his personal space as he leant forward. The man above felt imposing. Physically proximal but emotionally distant, there is just no telling the evil that lurks behind those vibrant eyes.

Claude utilizes one of his hands to push the hair away from Dimitri’s face. His touch featherlight as his digits rake the hair back, mindful as to not disturb the eyepatch’s string. Fingers following the rounded curve of the skull, a gentle play to coax Dimitri into a more obedient state. It does succeed in relaxing him because the head falls back until resting on the top rail of the chair. The blonde keens with every second that goes by, his body shuddering as Claude’s warmth engulfs him, eats him alive. His cleverness traps Dimitri in a set of strings which then become knotted, confusing, as his body fights with itself. To lack fear in a moment of danger is foolish, it will cause death, and death is what Claude tends to deliver. Maybe.

“This will help take the edge off,” Don’t fight it, he hears those words whispered to him in the in-betweens. 

“You want to punish me.” Dimitri speaks with utmost certainty. He will not be fooled by a pretty face, he knows there’s fangs hidden within that smile

“Savvy of my intentions now?” That smile shifts into a grin. Claude draws in closer, the waves of his hair shifting downward with the gravity. Dimitri’s hand reached out to hold Claude’s bicep, the hand glides downwards, nails pressing against the fabric, stretching to the point of tearing. He holds onto like a lifeline, afraid of plunging deeper into darkness now that he’s felt the minuscule warmth of light.

“Whether you’re right or wrong there’s only one way you’ll find out.” He lifts the glass as an ultimatum and presses it against Dimitri’s lips. This time Dimitri welcomes it. Lips spreading open, circular in their stretch to allow the contents to flow inside. Dimitri cannot detect a taste, nor a weight, can’t even describe a texture as he essentially swallowed. It hits the back of his throat heavily, and vividly feels its descent onto the digestive tract. 

He feels okay.

Unbeknownst to the seated man, his pupil has become dilated. The breathing of his body becomes mellow as a sensation of intense warmth takes over. It started from the stomach and slowly spread to the rest of the body In tingles. Dimitri begins to lose his grip on Claude as motor movements elude him. The hand falls lethargically to the side, the arm dangling on the side of the arm rest.

Sleepy, so sleepy. 

A loss of focus causes the vision to blur. Specs of brown and green morph together into a conglomerate of Claude, undefined by solid lines, Claude presses nearer still until his lips touch near Dimitri’s eye. The placement is peculiar, for you see, he kissed him on the same spot Dimitri punched him. But instead of leaving bruises, it left a soft touch, and the only blood involved was the blood that rushed to Dimitri’s blushing face.

“I’m sorry.” Dimitri’s groggy, finally admitting his regret and only because his grip on the here and now is fleeting. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” To his father. To his mother. To his friends. To the people of the kingdom. To the ghost of the past and future. To himself. To Claude. He’s sorry for not being the person he ought to be.

“I know.” Acknowledges Claude. Slowly, the lid covering a blue iris began to shut, allowing sleep to finally take residence.

____________________

When his eyes open, he wakes up to a scene of the past. A dark ambience instilled in the stone walls. The screeching of critters that lurk in the dark corners his only company in this, the hour of misery. Dimitri’s arms are kept bound by iron chains, hoisted up and out of reach. They sap his strength, keeping him weak throughout the days with knees buckled unto the floor. Hid bones feel like they’re flattening as they remain on such a flat surface. **Pain**. All he endures is pain. The muscles of his arms and back are sore, being fixed into the same position for days is a kind of torture he’s never experienced. 

He was kept behind rusted bars, where guards would taunt him like an animal. Prod him with the sharp ends of spears, cutting flesh from a distance, leaving it to scar over time. And again the sharp metal would dig through the same old paths, and it would heal again, uglier than before. This is how they defined him, this is how the beast came to be. 

He’s reliving this now, in this dream. Is this even a dream? Perhaps he never left. Perhaps this is where he’s been all along. The mind is a delicate thing, it can conjure what the heart wants even if it’s a false reality and make you believe in it all the same. Part of him tells him he’s still here in this cage, with Edelgard on the other side of the cell.

She steps in.

The swinging of the light above shifts the shadows. She glares as she looks down at him. Maybe that’s how she’s always looked at him, downcast, as if a lesser being. This is what she has reduced him to, as if he is meant to kneel for her. The dagger he had gifted her held tightly in a fist. Her first, it trembles, indecisive and angry, at herself or at him, who knows. He never understood why she didn’t just kill him alongside the rest of their family. What is the point of keeping a political prisoner? As he is, he is a loose end. It could be that she’s working up the courage to do it. There’s still a heart beating in there somewhere, and one day Dimitri will rip it out of her. 

But first she buries her dagger in his eye. Everything goes black. Pain. So much pain, it is excruciating. Then she pulls out the knife and it is bloodied. Forever stained in his memory with the blood of the Blaiddyd’s. The light above continues it’s hypnotizing swing, scanning a shadow over her figure, her details obscuring and shifting until becoming more angular. Harsher lines and darker colors, it is Claude who is before him now, with Edelgard’s dagger still in hand. He pushes in the tip of the blade into the cheek, making a slight incision that curves upwards. Dimitri can feel metal to bone as it scrapes so vividly inside him. 

The bloodied dagger leaves his skin, and Claude looms closer. He felt the dull press of Claude’s tongue taste away the iron in the few figments of blood. His lips forming a tight seal over pale skin, sucking until they wore matching bruises. Continuous pain, one form of pain gave life to another. The sharp bite of a knife replaced by the pressure of incisors biting into him. Dimitri felt himself being eaten alive by his past and present merging into one.

____________________

Dimitri wakes up, heart beating fast, feels the clambering in his ears. He takes in his surroundings, everything is covered by the veil of night. Nevertheless, he can discern that he’s still in the cabin, in the same chair he originally sat in when the sun was still up. Now the cold of the night sweeps through an open window, casting the aroma of smoked firewood and white meat inside. His stomach is roused by the scent, the stretch of lips that comes by opening the mouth causes a brief infliction of pain upon his cheek. Instinctively his fingers probe at the site, he feels a lack of split skin and instead comes by a swell. Sensitive to touch, under cautious fingertips the skin below appears irritated. No itch, no bumps, no cut or burn - could it be a bruise leftover from a dream freshly lived?

Is it even a dream?

There is no cell, no Edelgard, no Claude, so he cannot fall into the same fortune. There is nothing that cuffs him to a wall, he is free to stand on his own, walk on his own, run on his own volition. So he does, he gets up from the seat, all sore and whatnot, and heads towards the door. Immediately the air is thicker, hotter as it greets the Faerghus native. An aroma of freshly smoked herbs hits the senses, as Dimitri follows the smell he finds it comes from a campfire at a couple feet’s distance. The flame burns bright as it is fed wood. Scorching hot logs set aflame, growing bigger with the oxygen, consuming Claude’s meal to a toasty degree. It’s fish, he surmised, stabbed through with a stick to be roasted over an open fire. A crisp exterior turned brown, the meat becoming more dry the longer it stays under the flame’s supervision. But Claude is always vigilant, ensuring to turn his supper over to prevent burning. 

A twig snaps under his heel. This causes Claude to perk and look at his direction. From what light the fire gave, Dimitri can tell that Claude had yet to heal from their previous scuffle. A bruise so adamant that it spreads to the corner of his lid and just as swollen as he remembered. It looks uncomfortable, even more so, redder compared to the other eye. 

Claude says nothing, but instead, offers him a fish. The vapor’s hot, and manages to stir the rumble of his empty stomach. Dimitri snatches it but only because his treacherous stomach ratted him out. No word of thanks, only a bite to its thoroughly cooked center. It’s dry, the meat sticks to his tongue and teeth as he chews, nevertheless, he’s eating something. No taste comes from it, but the very hotness of it makes the tongue tingle, that’s more of a stimulus than other sources of protein have managed. 

Dimitri sits on the ground across from Claude, the distance bringing comfort as he eats. He stares into the fire. It speaks in low crackles as it breathes life, and for a moment Dimitri stops chewing to listen.

Claude’s mouth tugs at the corners of the fish, tearing out smaller pieces for slower and quieter chewing. Patient, as if he has all the time in the world to enjoy this meal. As if eating is pleasurable and not something out of necessity. Dimitri has been on the run for a while and every meal (including this one) is gorged down, because you never know what’s around the corner waiting to attack.

“Why do you paint deer? Seems like an utter waste of time to me.” Dimitri asks. He takes a bite. 

“Everything you do seems like an utter waste of time to me.” He clarifies, adding insult to the original inquiry. This seems to amuse his evening companion, he guesses by the way the corners of his lips tug upwards. 

“Oh I assure you, everything I do has importance.” A reason of self interest, Dimitri finishes that thought on his head as he continues to hear Claude speak the words. 

“And what could be the importance of painting deer?” Again, referring back to his original question. Claude takes a pause to take another bite, elongating the pause between the two longer than necessary. A smack of the lips before he begins to speak. “It’s a spell. That third eye is a connection between the deer and myself, it allows me to see what they see. It’s how I came to know about you.” 

Dimitri chews through this last piece of fish, making an effort to go at a slower pace. It’s now Dimitri’s turn to continue the conversation, but to start off, he discards the stick into the fire. It bursts even more hot at the additional wood. “You asked me if I would believe that you’re lonely. I do not believe you. You decided to come to this forest to live in solitude, either that, or you’re hiding from someone.” 

This got a response. Claude straightened his back, as a follow up he ran his hands through his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. A diversion no less, buying time to answer a question with another question. “And who would I be hiding from exactly?”

“Edelgard.” Claude knew of her, even spoke her name once. It’s a long shot but Dimitri had to try it.

“Edelgard.” Claude repeats, his mind drifting, Dimitri can tell because those eyes have lost a sharpness to them.

“No, it’s not hiding if she knows where I am. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression either, I’m not here by choice.” Not here by choice? Is Claude bound by duty? Is it coercion? The list of possibilities is endless.

“I’ve answered your questions, now it’s your turn to answer mine.” 

“I’m not telling you my nam-“

“Dimitri.” Claude’s gotten serious. The relaxed personality that he presented moments ago is long gone. Shoulders squared as his chest puffs, drawing out the courage to ask it, hoping to receive the answer he wants. His tan fingers grip at his own thigh, the screeching of the fabric as it curls in between the finger gaps. 

“-is a dead man.” Dimitri grits out. His eye is bloodthirsty while gazing at the seated man. The crackling of the fire is the only red in between the two of them. **Red for Edelgard.**

“He died at the hands of Edelgard.” Gravel voice, harsh as it scrapes from the throat. Meant to sound threatening, but what comes forth is exhaustion. A slacking sense of will as the odds stacked against Dimitri. He is certain that Claude has his suspicions and is only waiting on a confirmation to act out on it. Would he turn Dimitri in to the sorceress? Is freedom even the question worth asking?

“That’s what everyone says.” The opposite of gravel, it is sand ever coursing and light. Much more pleasant than stepping on gravel, better sounding to the ears. Claude is always in such control of his emotions. Dimitri is envious of his restraint. 

“I'm not everyone.” Or anyone for that matter. 

“Then who are you?” It always comes back to this.

“No one you should concern yourself with.” A memory of a prince. A beast broken. A man learning to walk on two feet once more. The promise of someone else’s death is the only thing keeping him upright, his goal. He wants Edelgard’s death to redeem himself because that’s the only way he knows how to make things right. 

He’s no king. He’s barely human.

There is no response from the other side of the fire, too castaway to bother as is reflected by the smoldering light of the flames. It eats away at all the colors and replaces it red and orange. The green of his eyes turns to an intense orange flicker. 

Claude stands so casual, leaving the remains of dinner for Dimitri to finish. His hands hide behind his back, the slack angle of his curved elbows tells Dimitri that this is all Claude is willing to entertain for the night.

“Kinda too late for that now,” The trace of a smile, warm, gentle and soft, the first of its kind. Claude makes his way back inside without much of a worry and Dimitri stays out of the wolf’s den, for the meanwhile.

He contemplates Claude’s interest in Dimitri Alexander Blaiddyd, in himself, even if misplaced. 

Hours come to pass and as he does and the chill of the night begins to lurk heavily beneath his garments. The fire is dying, and he shall remain to witness its extinction. Something so lively withered down to ash, floating wherever the winds may carry. It makes Dimitri think of his mortality. We are all destined to die but what makes each death unique is how one is preserved, be it through memory or burial. He wants nothing else but to be burned and for his remains to be carried by the hands of a gentle wind so that he may experience the freedom he never experienced while living. 

Very little reaction once something moves within Dimitri’s field of vision. It is small and wild, almost missable is not for the distinguishable anatomy. A young fox nears the fire, it must have smelled the fish but unfortunately came too late to the distribution. With its nose burrowing into the ground trying to pick up a scent, it began to look for an alternative meal source. 

Ever so cautious of Dimitri, the fox strayed from the menacing man, walking backwards into the wyvern’s area. Dimitri sat stoically as the wyvern lowered its stance, crouching of sorts to become smaller so that her presence can be less alarming. Wings uplifted prior to the launch, neck extending so that it may reach the target. That is when jaws clenched upon the smaller animal and blood came gushing out.

The twitching from the small fox stilled, no cry of pain, death came instantaneous. He merely watched as incisors teared through muscles and got to the organs. Softer to chew through compared to the exoskeleton, the wyvern made quick work of the fox. The tail is the only thing remaining of the animal, everything else desecrated by the jaws of a wyvern. It would seem that watching Claude and Dimitri eat stirred her appetite, and when an opportunity came to quell the desire, she took it. Looks like they are not so different, figures that Dimitri would find common ground with a beast. 

No longer could the fire continue and so the last of the light perished. However, the smell and heat persist long afterwards. It would not be wise to be out in the woods while it is dark out, granted the moon is out but it is not a full figure, only a waning crescent. That itself does not prove to be enough, and although Dimitri is not someone who scares easily, he does not wish to chance it with the wyvern. They have unsettled business to put it mildly, and without Claude to mediate matters, he rather the risk not be taken.

Dimitri heads in for the night but doesn’t sleep. Instead he watches Claude flip through endless pages, like poetry in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Gabriel for proofreading the chapter, your corrections have made this all the better.  
> The following chapter will be uploaded in a day or so, I appreciate everyone's patience and support for this work in progress!


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